


pleasant surprises

by mayor_crumblepot



Series: valeyne / baby batjokes tumblr fills [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe — everybody's chill, Fluff, M/M, and yknow i love her for it, jerome is surprisingly good at math when it benefits him, selina is literally only hanging out here because she loves to make fun of bruce, sweater wearing soft boy bruce wayne out here stealing hearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayor_crumblepot/pseuds/mayor_crumblepot
Summary: prompt:"our teachers keep pairing us together even though we’re polar opposites, but i can’t deny that you’re really cute"





	pleasant surprises

Going to a public school was the first of many mistakes Bruce made upon reentering high school after his parents’ death. He thought, maybe, that a chance of scenery would help him grow and leave the traumatic experience behind him; it couldn’t be too much different from his previous private school. 

He was wrong, of course. 

It isn’t the people that make the experience strange— Bruce gets along just fine with a handful of people in his grade, and even a handful of those outside of it as well. He’s a bit of a know-it-all, doesn’t quite get along well with his teachers; his physics teacher especially. 

Normally, it’s uncalled for to have a sophomore in a physics course, but Bruce had placed into it after testing out of biology and chemistry, and he requested to take the class along with the other juniors and a handful of seniors. One of which he shares a study hall with: a boy who never stops moving, whose socks never match, who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth. 

Jerome Valeska claims to have a twin brother that he absorbed in the womb, but sometimes he changes the story to “I have a twin brother that goes to another school,” he’ll wave his hand the same way, always up and to the right, “you wouldn’t know him. I’m the handsome one.” 

Bruce can’t stand him. 

By “can’t stand him,” Bruce means that he can’t stop thinking about Jerome and trying to decipher the purpose of the things he says. At first, he thinks it’s for attention, but even without his strange stories, Jerome gets enough attention. If it isn’t for his clothes, it’s for his hair, or his off-color jokes that get even Bruce, stoic little Bruce, to crack a smile. 

Still, when the teacher assigns them as teammates for yet  _another_  partner quiz? Bruce wants to scream. It’s obvious that Jerome has a mind, a very good one, at that. And still, he refuses to use it for academic applications. 

“You know about waves, right?” Bruce asks him, pressing when Jerome continues to just stare at him, doe eyed, “Wavelengths? Anything?” 

“We should go out sometime. You’re  _really_  cute,” Jerome is leaning onto the desk, head perched up on his hand so that he can comfortably stare are Bruce, “y’know, once you get past the whole stuffy rich kid thing.” 

“I’m as likely to go out with you as you are to get a good grade on this without my help.” After Jerome’s words settle in, Bruce adds, “Flattery will get you nowhere, by the way.” 

“So, theoretically,” scooting his chair closer to their shared desk, Jerome pushes his hair out of his eyes, “if I were to do this, on my own,” he gestures to the quiz between them, “and get us a passable grade, you’d go out with me?” 

“Yeah,” Bruce laughs, signing his name in perfect cursive at the top of the paper, next to Jerome’s all capitals print, “sure, Jerome.” 

Bruce should know better, really, considering his luck. He sits, dumbstruck, as Jerome takes the paper from him and starts scribbling numbers into the margins. At some point, he puts his hand out and wiggles his fingers at the calculator, “Gimmie,” and Bruce simply shoves it into his hand. It’s surreal, watching someone who he’s seen misspell his own name burn through these questions as if it’s nothing. He does hesitate a few times, but it’s almost like he preens under the attention Bruce is giving him. 

Jerome turns their paper in, and Bruce realizes that he definitely needs to reign himself in. Making assumptions about Jerome Valeska  _is not_  a good idea. 

* * *

“He can’t be that bad,” Selina reasons, watching Bruce try to find something in his closet that doesn’t make him look like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, “try a sweater.” 

“I was worried that would make me seem stuffy,” he pulls the garment over his head, fidgeting with the hem. It’s oversized, likely one of his father’s that he fished out of the closet in the months after his death. Bruce decides not to dwell on it, and shoves his wallet into the pocket of his jeans. 

“This is the most casual I’ve ever seen you,” she follows him downstairs, waiting in the foyer for Jerome to pull up to the gate, “and you still look like a billionaire. It rolls off you, like shit cologne.” 

Instead of buzzing Jerome’s car into the driveway, Bruce heads out to meet him. “Thanks for that,” he tells Selina, shutting the door before she can get one more in. 

Surprisingly, Jerome is polite. As polite as he can be while still being himself, rather. He holds doors open and pays for Bruce’s meal, even if it is just a cheap hamburger and a milkshake. It surprises Bruce, to say the least. What’s more surprising is that being with Jerome is fun. Bruce finds himself laughing more, holding a hand over his stomach when he can’t get enough air and Jerome is still going, dissolving into wheezes. 

It’s easy, and they sit on the trunk of Jerome’s car late into the night, parked somewhere along the winding road that leads up to the Wayne estate. Neither of them are particularly interested in stars, but the weather is nice and there’s no reason they shouldn’t stop. Jerome has no one waiting up for him, and Bruce hasn’t had a curfew since he turned twelve— it feels like a moment of freedom for the both of them. 

“You don’t really have a twin brother, do you?” Bruce finally asks him, nudging him with his shoulder, “That’s just something you say.”

“I do,” Jerome turns to him, serious expression breaking into a stupid grin, “I did, once. Then I fed him to the family dog.” 

“Shut  _up_ ,” he reaches out, gently smacking at Jerome’s leg, “come on, tell the truth.” 

“When we turned thirteen, I threw him off the side of my family’s yacht.”

“Stop—”

“No, no, on his tenth birthday, I stabbed him.”

“ _Jay_ —”

“When we were babies, I got my teeth in before him and bit his head clean off, and then—” Jerome can’t stop laughing, can’t speak past the giggles in his throat, “no, wait— I chewed his arm off first, and—” 

“You’re insufferable,” Bruce says, leaning fully on Jerome’s shoulder. 

“You’ve gotta take me on a few dates before you get my family history,” he says, kicking his legs and bouncing them off of his bumper, “sorry, Brucie.” 

“We’ll just have to do this again, then,” in jumping off of the trunk, Bruce purposefully avoids the bumper where it’s cracked, “but we’ll take one of the drivers, if that’s alright with you.” 

“If you’re paying,” Jerome opens the passenger door for him, “we can do whatever.” 

When Jerome walks him up to his door, Bruce thanks him and plants a solid kiss on his cheek. “Next weekend, then?”

“Yeah,” Jerome sounds breathless, all smiles, “next weekend.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr! i'm [ mayor-crumblepot ](https://mayor-crumblepot.tumblr.com)


End file.
